by Stargate
Rolling her shoulders to loosen cramped muscles, Sam turned toward the stairs - only to find Daniel on his way down, with Teal'c close behind. The faces of both men were grave. Suddenly, she felt sick. "What's happened?"
"Daniel Jackson has located Asdad," said Teal'c, as they reached the bottom of the steps and came to stand awkwardly before her.
Sam's eyes moved to Daniel's sober face. "I'm pretty certain," he said, "that Asdad is a corruption of Ashdod. On Earth, Ashdod was one of the ancient cities that formed the Philistine Pentapolis. What makes it significant is that Ashdod was also one of the chief seats of worship for Dagon."
"Dagon?" She bit her tongue, resisting an O'Neillish urge to ask Daniel to cut to the chase.
"Dagon was an ancient Mesopotamian god. And also, apparently, the father of-" He faltered, glanced at Teal'c and took a deep breath. "The father of Baal."
Mind whirring, still gazing at the morose features of her friends, Sam wasn't entirely sure she'd understood his point. "So you're saying that Asdad is actually this place, Ashdod? On Earth?" If that was true then-
"No," he corrected her. "It's not on Earth. Uh, well actually there is a city in Israel called Ashdod but I-"
"Daniel!" Her patience was wafer-thin.
He cleared his throat. "Ashdod is a Hebrew word. It means a place of strength and power - a fortress."
Fortress. Sam's heart thudded once, hard, then skipped a few beats. "As in Baal's fortress?" The place they'd spent days search ing for while the colonel was being tortured to death over and over and over...
Daniel nodded.
"Does he know?"
"Yeah."
She could think of nothing to say, but her chest ached with compassion. She knew the colonel too well to imagine that he'd let them handle this without him. "He can't go back there."
"O'Neill will endure this trial as he has many others," Teal'c assured them both. "He will not succumb to fear."
Sam cast him a hard look. She doubted Post Traumatic Stress Disorder featured much in Jaffa folklore, but surely even Teal'c didn't imagine that anyone could survive that level of cruelty without some kind of psychological damage. "He's only human, Teal'c."
"Do not undervalue your strength, Major Carter. I do not know a stronger race than the Tauri."
She smiled, barely. But she couldn't shake a deep feeling of disquiet. She'd seen how tense the colonel had been on Tsapan. How much worse would it be to go back to the place where he'd suffered so much? She looked from Teal'c to Daniel and back again, voicing a thought she hated to admit, even to her closest friends. "What if he can't handle it? What if he loses it while we're there?"
"Is that not what you feared on Kinahhi," Teal' c reminded her, "when you attempted to hide Baal's involvement with the planet?"
She shrank from the memory of the colonel's anger and, worse, his sympathetic reprimand. I understand why you didn't tell me about Baal. I appreciate it, but it can't happen again.
Daniel sighed and began polishing his glasses. He was obviously uncomfortable with the situation too, but seemed resigned to the inevitable. "Jack can handle a lot, Sam," he assured her quietly. "More than you might imagine." And then he shrugged and slid his glasses back onto his nose. "Either way, it's a moot point. I can't imagine anyone, or anything, keeping him from coming with us."
"Relieved of command?" Jack spat the words out like sour fruit. "Are you kidding me? Sir."
Hammond leaned back in his chair, unhappy. "I only wish I were, son."
It was impossible! "On what grounds? Crawford, that son of a-"
Wordlessly, Hammond pushed a staple-bound document across his desk and Jack snatched it up. It was Crawford's report to Kinsey. The rat-bastard. Skimming the words, he quickly found the bulletpoints and felt some of the wind drop from his sails. Crawford might have a point about their arrest and the verbal `abuse,' if you ignored the fact that the Kinahhi were peddling George Orwell's worst nightmare. Not to mention Baal had built his own private resort in their backyard! He dropped the report on the desk. "Has Kinsey seen this?"
"Not yet. But I'm sure it's on its way as we speak."
"It's just a recommendation," Jack pointed out. His mind had shifted now, away from Crawford and thoughts of revenge, toward his other obligations. His team. And Henry Boyd's team. "Do you have to act on it right away?"
Hammond's eyes narrowed and his fingers came to rest across his ample belly. "Officially, I haven't seen it. I think Crawford wanted to-"
"Rub our noses in it?"
A faint smile touched the general's lips. "Jack, it's only going to be a matter of days."
"Days is long enough."
"Long enough for what, son?"
For gating to Baal's god-awful House of Horror, for stealing the power unit Carter needed to make her device work, and for getting Boyd and SG-10 home. "To prepare my team, sir."
"Prepare your team?" Hammond's skepticism was as thinly veiled as Jack's lie.
It was enough to prick his conscience. He grabbed a chair and sat down, leaning over the desk and talking low. "Sir, you've always given me a certain... latitude to get things done. Have I ever let you down?"
"No, but I can't-"
Jack snatched the report from the desk and scrunched it into a ball. "You didn't see this. What's Crawford going to say? That he gave it to you before Kinsey? I don't think so." He paused, seeing an easing in the lines around the general's eyes. He was winning. "Just one mission, sir."
"Off world? Jack, I-"
"It's important." For a long moment he held Hammond's gaze, not just as a fellow officer but as a friend. Jack couldn't tell him more; the more the general knew, the more trouble he'd be in when the truth inevitably came out. His only card was the trust they'd built up over the seven insane years they'd served together on the galactic front-line.
It was enough. "One mission. But if I hear officially from Washington before you leave, then I'll have no choice but to stand your team down, Colonel."
Jack was on his feet in a second. "Understood, sir. And thank you."
Hammond nodded, but remained silent as Jack turned on his heel and headed for the door. Just as he opened it, the general spoke again. "Good luck, son."
Luck? Where they were headed he'd need a damn sight more than luck. A miracle would come in handy. Or maybe two.
Dusk was falling by the time O'Neill's truck pulled up in front of Major Carter's house. For a long time after the vehicle stopped it simply sat, the golden sunset reflecting off its smoked windows. From inside the house Teal'c watched until, at last, the truck door opened and O'Neill stepped out onto the sidewalk. Sunglasses hid his eyes, but Teal'c saw a weary slump to the man's shoulders as the colonel turned toward the house and took a deep breath. There was a brittleness to his strength that spoke of a man who knew what it was to be broken. And there was fear there, where there had not been before. Fear of failure, fear of weakness. That was the burden O'Neill now carried, that was the demon he must vanquish.
Teal'c moved away from the window, opening the front door and waiting for his friend.
"Expecting the pizza guy?"
"I believe Daniel Jackson has ordered Chinese."
"Again?"
"Indeed."
O'Neill harrumphed and eyed Teal'c warily as he stepped inside and closed the door. Teal'c knew he was wondering if he'd been told the location of Asdad. "Major Carter and Daniel Jackson are concerned," he said, unwilling to sport with his friend's intelligence. "Returning to Baal's fortress will be difficult for you."
Despite O'Neill's shrug of indifference, the hardness in his eyes gave him away. "Right now, that's the least of our worries." In response to the curious lift of Teal'c's eyebrow O'Neill simply nodded toward the living room. "They in there?"
They were, and Teal'c followed O'Neill through the house to find the rest of their team sprawled out on the sofa. At his entrance, both Major Carter and Daniel Jackson sat upright like startled marionettes. "Sir," the major said, noddi
ng nervously.
"Hey Jack," came Daniel Jackson's equally uneasy greeting.
O'Neill stopped dead in the middle of the room. He fixed them both with a flat stare and turned slowly to extend it to Teal'c. "Okay, kids," he began, "I'm only going to say this once, so listen up. Yes, this Ashdad...dod...whatever, turns out to be Baal's happy place. Yes, we have to go there. And yes, it sucks. But we're all going, and, no, I don't want to talk about it. Okay?"
Major Carter blinked, Daniel Jackson cleared his throat and an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. A silence O'Neill felt obliged to fill. "So here's the deal," he continued. " Crawfish's report to Kinsey wants me relived of command pending-"
"What?" Major Carter was on her feet. "No way. They can't-"
"Easy Major," O'Neill waved her back down. "They can and they will. But until that report hits Kinsey's desk and bounces back to Hammond, we have some time." He thought for a moment. `Not much time. Actually, hardly any time. We have a mission scheduled for fourteen-hundred tomorrow to a convenient dust-bowl. From there we'll `gate to Baal's..." He hesitated over the word, and a flash of frustration crossed his face. "Baal's fortress. We'll do what we have to do, get the hell out and go bring Henry Boyd home. Any questions?"
Major Carter sat forward, anxious. "Sir, the device needs to be mounted on a ship. I thought we'd have more time - maybe enough time to contact the Tok'ra. I don't know where we'd find a ship at such short notice."
O'Neill appeared unperturbed. "We're going to Baal's secret for tress, Carter. We'll find a ship. Anything else?"
She shook her head, but Daniel Jackson hesitantly lifted his hand. "Ah, Jack, we have no idea what will be waiting for us on Asdad. I mean, a whole army of Jaffa could be camped at the `gate."
"I don't think so. There wasn't much left of the place when I... left."
"If that is so," Teal'c warned, "it is possible that the device we seek may have been destroyed."
"Or removed," Major Carter added. "If Baal abandoned the fortress after Yu's attack he might have taken it with him."
"True, Major Glass-Half-Empty. Or we could go there, find what we're looking for and bring home four good people who don't deserve to be left behind to die." O'Neill spread his hands. "Look, I know there are risks. Huge risks. And if any of you want to back out, that's fine. You know that. None of this is official, I can't give any orders here. But I've come too far to give up. I won't give up, whatever the risks."
Teal'c felt a stirring of pride at his friend's words and took a step closer. "I do not intend to give up either, O'Neill."
"I appreciate that, T."
Daniel Jackson stood, pulling his glasses from his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I, uh, was translating some of the writings I photographed on Tsapan yesterday. I don't know, but I may have found something interesting. Reference to a shrine..."
O'Neill raised his eyebrows. "Daniel?"
"No, no, it may be important. I'll, uh, go compare it with the Tok'ra maps of the fortress." He offered a brief smile. "Trust me."
"Don't I always?"
Major Carter hid a smile and glanced at her watch. "I'd better get back to the basement. If I pull an all-nighter, I should be able to finish by morning. I hope."
"You will," O'Neill assured her. "That's what you do, Carter."
She cast him a wary look in response. Teal'c had often wondered to what extent O'Neill's determined confidence in the major's ability to solve the impossible was a burden to her, rather than an honor. But they all had their troubles to bear, and as Major Carter and Daniel Jackson left the room the colonel returned his attention to Teal'c. "Career on the line, facing impossible odds and almost certain death... Is it just me, or have we been here before?"
"Several times, O'Neill."
"Kinda getting old, don't ya think?"
Teal'c met his friend's words with silent amusement. He knew as well as O'Neill that neither of them would choose a different life. To live was to struggle, to fight and to triumph. To give up was to die, if not in body then in spirit.
O'Neill nodded, as if in agreement with Teal'c's unvoiced thoughts. But all he said was, "I need a beer."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
t was a subdued SG-1 that assembled in the `gate room, thought .General Hammond as he stood watching them from the control room. Every so often the colonel would cast a quick glance in his direction with obvious, but controlled, impatience as he waited for the final member of his team to arrive. But there was none of the usual banter to kill the time, just a steady sense of purpose that ran icy fingertips down Hammond's spine. Whatever his people were doing, they were not venturing on a standard mission of exploration to the desert moon of P6M-832. If nothing else, the incongruous black BDUs gave that much away.
You know this is wrong, George. The voice was his own, loud in his head as he watched his flagship team waiting to embark. It was wrong, and by rights he should be demanding answers from the obstinate colonel. But as Jack had pointed out the previous day, the latitude he habitually granted the man had always - always - paid off in the past. Fact was, O'Neill and his team had fought and, in at least three instances, died for the principles and people they were sworn to protect. The niggling niceties of bureaucracy might demand that Hammond stop them in their tracks, but his gut and seven years of trust told him to give the colonel the leeway he needed. God knew, when they came back Kinsey's Rottweilers would be straining at the leash to rip into the man and his team. And it made General George Hammond sick to his stomach to think that, while SG-1 were out there putting their lives on the line, he couldn't protect them from the machinations of a creature like Kinsey.
"Sir?" The voice behind him belonged to the young Lieutenant Ashley. Mousy and timid, she offered him three pages of white paper, neatly stapled at the comer. Even upside-down he could recognize the congressional seal. "An urgent fax came in, sir. From Senator Kinsey."
Talk of the devil and he doth appear... Hammond eyed the treacherous document as if it were a spitting cobra. He had no doubt at all what it was, and once he'd read it he'd have no choice but to act on its content. From the fax his gaze moved back to the `gate room where O'Neill was looking up at him again. It was almost as if the colonel could sense Kinsey's malevolent presence.
Clearing his throat and meeting Jack's gaze, Hammond said, "Thank you, Lieutenant. Please put it on my desk."
"Sir, it's marked urgent."
"I'm aware of that Lieutenant. Put it on my desk."
He didn't look at her or the fax, his attention still locked on O'Neill, who was turning to watch the final member of his team stride into the `gate room. Whatever Major Carter had in her overly-large pack, it was not standard issue. But Hammond was already in too deep to question what it might be. Instead he nodded to Sergeant Davis, "Dial the `gate, Airman."
The Stargate started to spin and the tension ratcheted up a notch as the first chevron locked. A phone rang behind him, but Hammond ignored it. The second chevron locked, then the third. Someone answered the phone but he tuned out the voice. The fourth chevron locked.
Then the fifth.
Down in the `gate room O'Neill said something to Jackson, who smiled faintly and nodded. Major Carter shifted her pack, which looked unusually heavy, but was focused on the spinning Stargate. The sixth chevron locked and-
"General Hammond, sir?"
He twitched at the sound of the voice behind him. Ashley, again. "What is it, Lieutenant?"
"Sir, Senator Kinsey is on the line."
Damn it. "Tell the Senator I'll call him back."
There was a pause. Hammond could hear the tinny rant leaking from the phone behind him as Sergeant Davis announced, "Chevron seven, locked."
Thank God! The event horizon erupted into the `gate room, casting everything in its opalescent light.
"Sir," came Ashley's fraught voice, "the Senator says-"
Hammond ignored her and leaned over to speak into Davis's mike. "SG-1," he said, feeling almost gleeful, "
you have a go."
O'Neill turned and offered a sloppy acknowledgment, somewhere between a salute and a wave, before he nodded to his team and they strode as one up the ramp toward the Stargate.
"Good luck, Jack," he muttered under his breath as he watched SG1 step into oblivion. "And Godspeed." Davis must have sensed the import of his words, because he glanced up curiously. Hammond had no desire to reveal more and turned away. "Shut it down, Sergeant."
"Sir!" LieutenantAshley stood behind him, still clutching the phone and seeming close to tears. He didn't blame her; Kinsey had a nasty bark. Almost as bad as his bite.
Offering her a reassuring smile, he took the phone and reluctantly put it to his ear. "This is Hammond," said smoothly. "No, sir, I haven't seen your fax." He smiled at the Senator's next words, "SG-1? They're off-world, sir. Won't be in contact again for at least forty-eight hours."
The Senator exploded and as he held the phone away from his ear, Hammond let himself bask in a smug sense of satisfaction. Perhaps, this once, he had been able to protect his people from the vipers after all. He just hoped that when O'Neill came back he'd pull another SG-1 miracle out of his a- out of the air to save his own skin. Because, as sweet as the moment tasted, Hammond knew it was only a temporary respite. Kinsey smelled blood, and wouldn't be content until he'd tasted it.
`Dustbowl' had been exactly the right word to describe P6M-832. Tumbled-down ruins scattered from the Stargate, half buried in drifting sand. The wide gray desert beyond slowly encroached over the remains of the civilization that had once existed here, and the wind never ceased, tugging hard at jackets and threatening to snatch Jack's cap from his head. He yanked it off and stuffed it into his pocket, just in case.
"Nice place," he muttered, pulling his sunglasses on to keep out the sand.
Around him, the rest of his team stood waiting, expectant and nervous. And the contents of his stomach were congealing into a hard lump of dread. The last time he'd gated to their next destination he'd been a passive observer of his body's actions - until it had been too late, and he'd had his mind peeled away piece by agonizing piece. This time, he told himself, would be different. This time he was in control, and he'd blow his own brains out before he let Baal take him alive again.
